Any Way He Could
by rhyejess
Summary: Harry and Ron thought the worst ended when the war ended, but the Death Eaters that captured Harry have reached new levels of creativity. Can Ron help ease Harry's pain? Warnings: Implied past noncon, comfort after sexual assault.


"You have to talk to him," Hermione said softly to Ron. "He won't talk to me."

"How'm _I_ supposed to talk to him, then?" Ron answered, miffed. He was _trying_ to focus on his stupid overdue work report, and how was he supposed to do that with Hermione bugging him about Harry? Hermione didn't get guys. Harry didn't want to talk about stuff. He was probably just glad to be away from the Death Eaters.

"Ron," Hermione had lowered her voice to a whisper. "I'm serious. Something's really wrong."

"I'm sure he doesn't want to talk about it," Ron said.

"I think... I think they really _hurt_ him."

Ron looked up and set aside his quill. "He's _Harry_," Ron pleaded as if it answered everything. "I'm sure they hurt him, but they've been hurting him his entire life and no one knows better than he does how to handle it."

Anger flashed behind Hermione's soft brown eyes. Ron went back over what he'd said to try and understand what had caused her to become so livid all of a sudden. Exasperated, Ron finally exclaimed, "What? I'm not good at talking anyway."

"Ron, I mean I think they hurt him _physically_."

Ron started to speak at this- once again to explain to Hermione that Harry had already been hurt physically by Death Eaters and this didn't really change his argument- but Hermione cut him off with a murderous glare before she hissed, "I mean _sexually_. You are too dense!"

Ron was taken aback. He actually leaned backwards as though he had been slapped, but when he spoke, he said perhaps the daftest thing he possibly could have. "Then I _really_ don't want to talk to him!"

If Ron had thought Hermione looked murderous before, the glint in her eye had turned downright demonic now. "Ronald Weasley, you are going to go into that room and you are going to make Harry feel better _any way you can_."

Ron set down his quill and raised his hands in surrender. He dreaded this with every fibre of his being, but he had to admit that he dreaded Hermione's rage even more. She seemed skeptical as Ron stood and went to the spare bedroom Harry had been living out of. Ron and Hermione's flat wasn't large, but they'd made sure to have an extra bedroom just in case Harry ever needed a place to stay. It had been five days since they'd found their best friend. He'd been missing for two weeks and everyone in the entire Wizarding World had been frantic to find him. Hermione had the honor, actually, though Ron had not been far behind. The abandoned warehouse they'd found him in had smelled like shite and mold and Harry had been barely conscious. Since then, he'd been recovering in their spare bedroom. Ron had to admit that Harry's body seemed to have healed much more quickly than his mind. He had barely left the bedroom in days.

Ron knocked hesitantly on the door. At first, he heard nothing, so he knocked a second time. This time a muffled voice answered him, "Come in." Ron did just that.

As Ron entered the room, he noticed that it was impeccably clean. Harry hadn't left so much as a dirty sock out on the floor. The light by the bed was glowing a cheery gold. Harry was wearing jeans and a T-shirt and was stretched across the bed, his hands folded behind his head. He might have been watching the stars if there had been anything above him besides plaster ceiling.

Ron sat down on the edge of the bed. "You alright?" he asked.

Harry shrugged. This strange silence had been another aspect of Harry's recovery. He seemed to talk very little. Ron wasn't exactly a natural conversationalist, so it seemed for a moment that their conversation wouldn't go much further than this.

Harry, though, finally broke the tense silence. "I just thought the war was over, you know?"

Ron nodded. "Yeah, but there'll always be some Death Eaters out there that haven't been arrested. That's why we have jobs, you know?" Ron was aware, though, that Harry knew this better than anyone.

"I guess, I thought the worst was in the past," Harry sighed.

"I really think it is!" Ron couldn't imagine that Harry had been through anything in the past couple of weeks to rival what they had experienced in the war.

Harry said nothing for a very long while. Ron slid down so he was lying next to Harry on the bed. He folded his arms behind his head in an exact mimic of Harry's gesture. He still saw nothing overhead but plaster ceiling, but at least now that he was lying down he didn't feel any pressure to keep a one-sided conversation going. In fact, Ron was nearly sound asleep when Harry finally said something of substance.

"Ron," Harry said softly, "It was worse. It was worse than seeing friends die and worse than any curse they've ever put on me before. It was worse."

Ron wasn't sure how to respond for a moment. He had trouble imagining how it could be much worse if Harry seemed already well-recovered, but he knew better than to disagree. After all, he hadn't been there. Quietly, Ron found himself asking, "What could possibly be worse?"

Ron felt the bed shift next to him and a moment later he looked over to see Harry unbuckling his trousers. Ron was shocked for just a moment, but then he saw exactly why Harry had done it. As Harry pushed his pants down, his cock was revealed, and Ron gasped at what he saw. He had to admit he had never really examined Harry's penis before, but years of living together meant he had seen it in passing. What he saw now was beyond his ability to comprehend. For starters, Harry's foreskin was gone entirely, which Ron imagined much have hurt like hell, but if that hadn't been painful enough, the tip of Harry's penis was also missing. It wasn't quite a stump- there was still plenty left, really, but it was kind of an issue when someone cut off the head of your dick, right? Ron felt like a complete moron for thinking that nothing could compare to the past wounds the other side had dealt them.

Then he opened his mouth and asked the single stupidest thing he could have asked. "Did that hurt?" Harry, to his credit, didn't answer. Ron quickly darted in with, "Sorry, stupid question. I mean, does it- do you-" Ron had no idea what he wanted to say. He silently cursed Hermione for putting him into this situation. He was way over his head.

"I guess Ginny won't want me know, huh?" Harry said grumpily.

That statement actually did take Ron aback a moment. He felt a tiny flame of anger ignite and it took him a minute to find his words, but when he did they came out of his mouth like curses. "Mate, are you saying my sister only loves you for your dick? If you think that, you don't deserve her."

Harry stared wide-eyed at Ron for a moment and then his shoulders sagged a bit. "No, I- I just mean... What if it doesn't work right anymore?"

"Have you, uh, tested it?" Ron asked awkwardly.

Harry shook his head. "It's still a bit sore."

They both stared down at his penis for a moment. Ron didn't even realize how strange it was because he was using all his brain power to think of how Harry could test a sore penis! "What about lotion or something?" Ron asked.

"I tried a bit," Harry responded, "But it was still sore."

"Murtlap essence?"

"Yeah, I've been using that. Just to make sure it heals up."

"But I mean, couldn't you use it for... wanking?" Ron questioned.

Harry wrinkled his nose and Ron nodded. "Yeah, it does stink a bit."

Ron hated himself for the thought that came to him next. Wouldn't a mouth be okay? The warmth and the slick saliva, as long as there were no teeth involved? He couldn't very well suggest to Harry that Ginny should do something like that, though. The thought of his sister doing anything remotely sexual was revolting. He would rather just do it himself than suggest Harry ask Ginny.

Ron sighed, resigned to the stupid decision he had inadvertently just made. "Lie back," he commanded Harry. "And close your eyes." After all, Hermione had said he should do _anything_ that would make Harry feel better, so it's not like she could object to this, right?

Harry looked confused, but he did what Ron asked. Ron took a deep breath and leaned forward, carefully sliding Harry's flaccid cock past his lips. He'd never done anything like this, but he was surprised by how easy it was when you got down to it. It was just a body part, really.

Harry gasped then and Ron pulled back. "Sorry, did that hurt?" Ron asked.

"N-No," Harry stuttered. "It felt..."

"Good?" Ron prompted.

All Harry could do was nod in response, so Ron took that as an invitation to continue. He once again leaned forward to take Harry into his mouth, only this time Harry was noticeably less flaccid, though not fully hard yet either. Ron did nothing for a bit but hold the cock on his tongue. Ron thought it must have felt strange since it had no tip, but he had no experience with which to compare it. He sent up a silent prayer to Merlin or whoever else might be listening that Ginny had never done anything like this either.

Harry's cock did slowly come to life in Ron's mouth, and Ron began to bob carefully up and down on it, extra cautious not to let his teeth get anywhere near. He was even afraid to let his tongue do anything more than brush Harry's cock, but Harry himself was starting to move now, to thrust into Ron's mouth. Ron wasn't in control of their movements any more, but he figured that Harry would stop if he was in pain.

Harry, though, didn't stop. And he didn't slow down. Instead, he moved faster, harder. He made noises that Ron had never heard before, didn't even recognize from the couple times he thought he'd overheard Harry wanking in Gryffindor Tower. Ron dug his fingers into Harry's hips and tried to steady himself against the thrusts, but it was really no use. Harry was frantic now, and even though Ron was having trouble breathing, he was pretty thrilled to know that Harry was enjoying this. After everything that had been taken from Harry by Voldemort and his followers, this was one thing that Harry deserved to keep.

A moment later, Harry came with a strangled cry. Ron might have wondered if Hermione could have heard it except he was too shocked to find his mouth suddenly full of hot come. He panicked and swallowed, gagged, sat up and coughed.

"Sorry," Harry muttered sheepishly. "I'm sorry, I-"

"Shut it," Ron groaned. "I volunteered."

Harry sagged back onto the bed and said nothing for so long that Ron became nervous. He cleared his throat, still tasting Harry's salty come on the back of his tongue. "That was alright, though, wasn't it?"

"Huh?" Harry looked up.

"I mean, you did- You got- You finished, you know?"

Harry stared at Ron for a moment and then cracked a smile. "Course I enjoyed it. Ron-"

Ron raised his arms in his defense. "Just making sure. That's why I did it! I certainly wouldn't do _that_ for my _own_ enjoyment."

Harry evidently did not buy Ron's words. He pointed to the immodest tent in Ron's trousers. "Seems like you hated it."

Ron felt his cheeks warm and he was sure he was blushing. "It's okay," Ron said frantically. "I can take care of this myself."

Harry opened is mouth, then closed it, then finally opened it again to say, "You shouldn't. You should let Hermione."

For a moment Ron felt like he was being told to leave. Then he thought he understood. Harry was saying that he didn't want to come between Ron and Hermione. To Harry, Ron and Hermione were as permanent and indelible as his own parents or Ron's parents; they couldn't and shouldn't be torn apart. Harry gained more comfort from seeing Ron and Hermione together than he would get from being able to get Ron off. Ron nodded. "Alright."

"But, thank you," Harry added quickly. "I mean, really. It's not like I could ask Ginny-"

Ron's hands flew to his ears. "I am not listening to this."

He dropped his hands again in time to hear Harry say, "But really, I thought- Well, thanks for proving me wrong."

"No problem," Ron answered. "I'm not a healer, but I think you should let it heal a bit more before you go waving it around. But I think you'll be alright."

Harry sighed. "I suppose I should see a healer, though, right?" He seemed in complete dread of Ron's answer. Ron knew what Hermione would say- what any practical person would say- but this was Harry's _dick_ and Ron wouldn't have been able to see a healer about it himself. Especially not if he was Harry- a celebrity. What if someone at St. Mungo's leaked this to the Prophet?

"I don't think you have to," Ron assured Harry.

Harry immediately looked relieved, as if he had been waiting for this absolution from Ron. They sat in a comfortable silence for a moment, and when Ron turned back to speak to Harry again, he saw that Harry was sound asleep. As silently as he could manage, he stood, left the room, and slipped the door shut behind him.

He found Hermione putting away the clean dishes in the kitchen. She turned to him expectantly. "Well?"

"I did what I had to to make him feel better,' Ron answered flatly.

Hermione smiled. "Thank you Ron. I love you."

Ron smiled back, grateful that he had gone into that room, though less for Hermione's sake than Harry's. "It wasn't any trouble," he answered.


End file.
